Summary:
This is the sequel to Salvation, my season 6 rewrite. It picks up on a very specific day from the series finale and takes off from there. This is how I imagine Damon and Elena's future.
Notes:
This is, as I stated above, a sequel. As you might or might not remember, I changed a few crucial things from season 6 and I build on them here. If you haven't read Salvation, you might get confused here and there. If you have read it but need a reminder of the major plot points I changed, here's a few pointers (contains spoilers for Salvation!):
1. Elena and Damon spent ~1.5 years traveling through Europe before they returned and Elena subsequently fell into the magical coma.
2. Jo died not during the wedding, but during the birthday party for the twins, thus Caroline never gave birth to Josie and Lizzie. But I did allude in my last chapter that she sort of stepped up to become their mom after Jo was gone.
As before, paragraphs in italics symbolize past scenes.
A few major things I changed from season 8 which directly affects this story/sequel: Nobody took the cure from Elena while she was sleeping. And also, I am not familiar with the storylines of The Originals, same goes for the storylines of Legacies. Wherever my story doesn't fit with one of the other two, just assume in my world it happened differently somehow.
Sorry for the winded explanations. Please have fun reading. I will love to read your comments. I missed this.
/Anna
The atmosphere in the Salvatore boarding house was somber, to say the least. It was eerily reminiscent of the last time they were all assembled here like that. Except the last time the person in the casket wasn't actually dead but in a magical coma. Stefan, however, would never wake up again. He was undoubtedly and irrevocably dead.
Damon took a swig from the bottle – not his first – and let his eyes scan the room. Caroline's grief almost matched his own; it was overpowering in its intensity and he couldn't bear to look at her for too long. Seeing the despair in her eyes tugged at the insides of his chest, threatening to tear them apart, something dark struggling to break free. He didn't know how much longer he could fight against it. For now, the monster thrashing inside him was kept at bay by copious amounts of alcohol.
As if sensing his stare, Caroline turned to glance at him and Damon averted his eyes.
Alaric sat on one of the sofas, the five-year-old twins to either side of him. Damon couldn't tell if the girls understood why everyone was so sad or why their quasi-mom, Caroline, was crying. Bonnie was suspiciously absent, but that was alright. She'd want to offer consolation, even hope. But Damon knew that these things didn't exist. Not anymore. Not for him.
Donovan stood next to the fireplace, talking quietly on the phone to some deputy or something. Damon didn't bother listening in. He could figure out what they were talking about simply going by his body language, and not just Donovan's. Damon knew all their minds; could read it on their faces. They all expected him to explode, lash out, channel his pain into destructive behavior. He was a ticking bomb and it was only a matter of time until he would go off.
He wouldn't. Not today at least. There was not enough strength left in him to do anything but sit there and nurse his drink. And maybe once this farce of a wake was over, he'd just continue to do that, minus the drink. Yeah, the more he thought about it, the more it seemed like the most plausible solution.
He was going to starve himself, even though he promised Elena that he wouldn't. He was just so sick of everyone dying and besides, he had broken that particular promise already. What did it matter if he broke it twice?
Upstairs, in one of the guest bedrooms, Bonnie performed a spell to seal the room off to nosy vampire ears. She sat down on the edge of the bed and, lifting the cloaking spell off of her best friend's reposed body, took Elena's hand in hers.
Enzo's disembodied voice protested, quite violently, "Bonnie, don't do this."
"I have to," Bonnie replied, quietly and with a sad smile.
"That's what you think now because you're grieving. But you don't have to do this. You're putting yourself in unnecessary danger. Both of you."
"I don't think so." Bonnie lifted her head and spoke in the direction from where Enzo's voice was coming. She wished she could see him; sometimes she still could, though she couldn't say if it was real or imagined. "The way I see it, either the spell works and Elena wakes up. Or the spell is more than I can handle and it kills me and Elena wakes up. Either way – Damon is getting Elena back. Today."
Enzo growled and Bonnie knew if he had still been corporeal, he would have smashed something. "Why are you doing this?" Enzo wailed.
"Hey, look at it this way: If we're lucky, I join you on your very exclusive other side and we can be together again."
"We don't know that you would. And even if we did, I'd rather you live, love," Enzo whispered.
"I can't lose him," Bonnie replied.
"Who? Damon?"
"Yes. I already lost you, and Elena, and Stefan. I can't lose him, too. I can't be alone, Enzo."
"He'll be fine. So, he's lost his brother. He'll grieve, he'll get over it."
"I don't think he will. Not by himself. I know what he plans to do."
"Then we'll talk him out of it."
Bonnie shook her head. "He won't listen. He lost too much, too." She glanced over at Elena's sleeping form. "He needs her."
"And I need you. To live, to be precise. Don't sacrifice yourself, please, love."
"I love you, Lorenzo St. John."
"I love you too, Bonnie Bennett. Which is why I'm begging you to please not do this. Please."
"I have to," Bonnie whispered and closing her eyes, began the incantation.
Hours – or was it minutes? – later, Bonnie reemerged from her trance-like state and took a deep breath. The air smelled of ozone and crackled faintly. The room was in disarray; like a tornado had swept through it. Only the bed remained untouched – an island of calm amidst a rough sea. On the mattress, Elena's fingers stirred. Bonnie held her breath when her eyelids began to flutter.
Bonnie didn't dare move as she watched her friend open her eyes and slowly take a look around. Brown eyes finally met green ones.
"Elena?" Bonnie barely dared to breathe.
"Bonnie? How—"
Unexpectedly, a sob erupted from Bonnie's throat, followed by a flood of tears she couldn't stop, no matter how hard she tried. She never expected to ever hear her friend's voice again and the fear and anxiety of the past years escaped Bonnie's body in thick rivulets, clouding her vision and painting black paths of runny mascara on her cheeks. But she didn't care. Relief for still being alive, pride for having managed to break Kai's spell, joy for seeing her best friend again, heartache because she would have to be the bearer of bad news, and a million more all warred for dominance in her head.
She scrambled onto the bed and threw her arms around Elena who, despite feeling a bit lost and bewildered, hugged her back fiercely.
"Damon?" Elena asked as soon as Bonnie released her.
"He's okay," Bonnie nodded and Elena breathed a sigh of relief.
Elena smiled and went to swing her legs off the bed. "I didn't think I'd ever see you again."
"Me neither," Bonnie admitted between sobs. "But I managed to break the spell."
"Thank you," Elena breathed.
Bonnie bit her lip and closed her eyes before she whispered, "Don't thank me yet." She fixed her eyes on Elena who had frozen in dread. "I have to tell you something," Bonnie began.
"Don't tell me he forgot that he loved me."
Bonnie managed a weak smile at the attempt of a joke. "No. It's not about Damon. Well, it kind of is, but not really. It's Stefan."
Elena's face slipped and she bit her lip in an effort not to cry. "He's dead, isn't he?"
Bonnie nodded, not having the strength to say it out loud and break her friend's heart. "How did you know?" she asked instead.
"I dreamt of him. Except, I don't think it was a dream."
Bonnie nodded, fresh tears flowing from her eyes.
"It was weird," Elena continued. "I think he was trying to say goodbye. Will you tell me what happened?"
Bonnie gulped for breath. "Oh, god. Where do I even start? So much happened, Elena. And I haven't been there for a lot of it. Maybe you should talk to Damon about it."
"How is he doing?" Elena whispered.
Bonnie wiped the tears from her face, released a breath and tried, "Not good? But maybe you can fix him. I don't think anyone else can."
"Where is he?"
"Downstairs. They're all here, saying goodbye to Stefan."
Without another word, Elena ran towards the door and was gone. Bonnie sagged back onto the bed, completely drained. She rubbed her face with both palms and when she looked up again, she saw Enzo, crouching down in the corner, back against the wall, simply looking at her. Bonnie smiled at him and he just shook his head in disbelief. Then he got up and joined her on the bed. And Bonnie wished really hard that she were able to touch him.
Damon tried to focus on the casket that contained the remains of his brother. It was difficult, as he had recently started seeing two of them. He blinked and raised the bottle in the general direction of his dead brother, thinking that more alcohol would probably rectify the situation. But the bottle was empty, so Damon reached for a new one and uncapped it. When everyone suddenly gasped in unison, Damon thought they were taking it a bit far with their disapproval. It wasn't exactly out of character for him to medicate a situation with bourbon.
His whisky-addled brain took a moment to register that they weren't paying attention to him but rather to something happening behind his back. Pushing his legs off the coffee table he swiveled his upper body around and froze. As if in a cheap comedy, all eyes were suddenly turned on him but Damon ignored them. He glanced from the vision in front of him back at the bottle in his hand. It was only his third and it was still full. Definitely too early to start seeing things. His eyes focused again on the petrified form of Elena at the foot of the stairs. Making a conscious effort to clear the fog from his brain, the first thing his vampire ears noticed was her rapidly beating heart, followed quickly by her unique scent as it reached his nostrils.
He rose automatically, the bottle of bourbon dropping to the floor and staining the carpet. He would have cared about that on any other day. Now, however, he only had eyes for the woman in front of him.
He opened his mouth, but had no idea what to say. A moment later, Elena flew into his arms and he caught her reflexively. Her arms squeezed around him so tight, like she never intended to let go. Finally, she did, but only to press her lips against his. Damon followed suit, dazed and brain lagging behind. While his mind was still trying to process, his hands roved her body, reacquainting himself with the feel of her in his arms, making sure she was real. And then he devoured her mouth, starved for her taste.
Finally, he pulled back. But Elena wouldn't allow it; she sank her fingers in his hair and pulled him back in. She pressed her body closer to his and invaded his mouth with her tongue again and Damon was only too happy to follow.
When they pulled apart, he held her face gently in his hands, studying her features, drowning in her eyes, until she glanced at the congregation of mourners behind him. Damon stepped back but stuck to Elena's side, arm around her middle. She met the dumbfounded faces of her friends and something between a laugh and a cry erupted from her throat.
Caroline was the first to throw her arms around her, knocking Damon aside accidentally. He allowed it and looked around. His first impulse was to get himself a drink, but that was just habit. What he needed was something to clear his cotton balled brain. Eyeing the drinks cart, he grabbed a bottle of water. As he was downing it, he happened to glance towards the stairs where an uncharacteristically timid looking Bonnie hovered.
"I take it, you had something to do with it, Sabrina?" he asked her.
She shrug-nodded and came closer while still keeping her distance, insecure about everyone's reaction.
"That was incredibly stupid of you. You could have died." As he said the words, Damon realized that Bonnie must have considered that option too and found it an acceptable outcome. Rage and anger surged inside him and Damon tried to reign it in. He closed the distance between them and roughly pulled Bonnie into a savage hug, almost cutting off her air supply. "Don't ever do something like that again, you hear me?"
"No promises," Bonnie mumbled into his shoulder, her tears soaking his shirt.
"You weren't even going to tell me about it? Say goodbye, in case it didn't work?"
"Look who's talking," Bonnie teased as Damon released his tight hold on her. "You wouldn't have let me do it, if I had told you what I planned."
"Damn right I wouldn't have."
"He's right, Bonnie. It was too dangerous," Elena cut in, the hugging party around her having broken up when Bonnie appeared.
"But it worked," Bonnie replied with a proud grin.
"Just because I'm grateful doesn't mean that I'm not angry with you, got it?" Damon bit out before adding, "But honestly: Thank you."
"Yes, thank you," Elena echoed. She returned to Damon's side, winding both her arms around him. Damon looked down at her and everything else fell away.
"Hi," she quietly said, looking into his eyes.
"Hi back. I would have dressed up had I known you were joining us," Damon said. "Or at the very least tried really hard to be sober."
"Don't believe him," Alaric spoke up. "I haven't seen him sober in a long time."
"Traitor," Damon threw back in his direction.
"How long was I gone?" Elena asked.
"One thousand five hundred and seventy-nine excruciatingly long days," Damon answered.
"Almost four and a half years," Caroline translated.
The happy smile slipped from Elena's face as she caught sight of the casket in the middle of the room. She moved towards it but was held back by Damon. His arm around her waist tightened and she turned to him.
Laying a palm on his cheek, she looked into his eyes and said, "It's okay. I know."
"No, it's not that. He's… Just… Don't open the casket, okay? He's burned. Badly."
Elena's eyes closed, a tear escaping. She nodded and took his hand, squeezing it before she walked over to Stefan.
Elena wandered through the Salvatore Mansion, randomly picking up trinkets and setting them back down. The house was empty. It always was. She was alone in this world that was not quite a dream, but not reality either. Sometimes she imagined she could feel the passage of weeks and months, but most of the time she forgot to think about that. All days bled into one; she wouldn't have been able to tell if she'd been asleep for a week or a decade.
So she wandered through the house, letting her fingers glide over the spines of the books in the library, drifting over to the wingback chair. She settled in with one of her favorite books and read but if it was minutes or hours, she could never tell.
An indefinite amount of time later she found herself climbing the stairs to the upper level guest bedrooms. At the last corridor, something made her turn and walk in the direction of Stefan's room instead. She stepped inside and there he was, standing next to the window, his back to her.
Hearing her enter, he turned around.
"Is this really happening? Or am I imagining all of this?"
"I don't know," Elena replied.
"I'm seeing what I want to see, aren't I? This is only happening in my head."
"What is?"
Stefan sighed. "It doesn't matter. It's not like I have a choice."
"What are you talking about?"
"I have to believe that you're really here. Not like I'll get another chance, right? So, on the off-chance that you're actually Elena and not just a figment of my imagination, I need you to get a message to Caroline."
"But I won't see Caroline for a very long time," Elena replied.
"That's exactly what I would have you say if I was imagining this," Stefan mumbled, mostly to himself. He then shook his head and gently grabbed Elena's shoulders. "Tell her that I love her. That I heard her. That I loved every minute that I got to spend with her. Tell her I don't want her to be sad. And tell her that I hope I'll see her again."
"I will," Elena promised.
"I've got a message for you, too. Will you try to remember it when you wake up?"
"What is it?"
"Don't blame him. None of this is Damon's fault. Whatever he's done, or will do still – it's not him. He's not himself; he's being manipulated. You're his weakness, Elena. You always have been. It's easy to exploit that. Whatever happened – he's not to blame. And whether he chooses to tell you or never breathes a word of it, please promise me you'll forgive him and you won't stop loving him."
"I promise," Elena said. Nothing easier than that.
"Can you promise me something else?" Stefan asked.
"I'll try."
"Be happy," Stefan pleaded. "If I know my brother at all, he'll try very hard to push you away, once all of this is over. Don't let him. I've never seen you as happy as when you were with him. And I know he loves you; he just can't help but sabotage his own happiness because he never learned to trust it; nobody ever gave him reason to – before you came along. So, don't let him get away with it, okay? And you'll be fine. You both will be. I won't be there to witness it, but I know you'll live a happy and fulfilled life. I'll be at peace, knowing that everyone I love is happy."
"Are you dying?" Elena asked.
"I think I am, yes."
"Will I see you again?"
"I hope so."
"But you don't know," Elena concluded.
"I want to believe it. And don't they say faith can move mountains?"
The sad party of mourners broke up soon after. They would reconvene tomorrow for the actual funeral, though Bonnie and Caroline were staying overnight in the Salvatore house. Caroline wanted to stay close to Stefan and Bonnie said she would take care of her, leaving Damon and Elena alone for the first time since she woke up.
They turned towards Damon's bedroom, heads still buzzing trying to process the day's events, but bodies tired and weighed down by grief. They climbed the stairs slowly, hand in hand, not speaking much.
Once the bedroom door closed, Damon leaned against it heavily and shut his eyes, sighing deeply. Elena waited a few paces away, looking at him. As his eyes opened and met hers, no words were spoken and they silently continued to gaze at each other.
Eventually, Elena held out her hand for him. Damon took it and she tugged on it, pulling him to her gently. His eyes searched her face while in the back of his mind a tiny voice wondered if all this was an alcohol induced dream.
"Are you real?" Damon rasped, hope and fear turning his voice hoarse.
Instead of an answer, Elena kissed him. Her lips slid tenderly over his before she pulled back and studied his face. She leaned in again, lips more insistent now, prying his open, tongue demanding entrance which was immediately granted.
As if afraid that once he took a more active role in the proceedings, she would disappear again, Damon remained mostly passive, letting Elena plunder his mouth and bite down none too gently on his bottom lip.
She released a small sound of frustration, or maybe it was impatience, and brought his hand that she was still holding to her chest. She directed his hand to palm one of her breasts and moaned in satisfaction when his other hand came up to do the same with the other. Her own arms banded around his body, tightly clutching the back of his shirt in both fists. The front of his shirt strained under the tension and a button popped off.
For whatever reason, this seemed to jar Damon from his stupor. He roughly jerked Elena closer, mouth sealing tighter over hers, tongue meeting tongue and dueling for dominance which Elena freely relinquished.
His hands roamed her back, searching for the zipper. Not finding one, he grabbed the neckline and tore the dress down the middle, pushing the rags down and exposing Elena down to her waist. She quickly got rid of her bra and Damon's mouth released hers. Breathing heavily, his eyes roamed over her flushed face and neck, taking in her curves, following the lines with reverent hands.
Nudging her head back with his, he kissed a straight line down her body, starting at the tiny dip on her chin and down its underside where she was especially sensitive. Lower along the column of her neck and the dip at the base of it. All the way across her sternum, the intimate spot between her breasts.
His knees hit the floor and he pushed his face against her stomach, arms winding around her hips. Minutes passed like this and Damon didn't move. Elena wound her fingers through his hair, lifting his face to see it. He stared up at her, completely broken as he kneeled in front of her. Something dark lurked behind his eyes and she could see the effort it took him to keep it hidden from her. She would allow him his secrets… for now.
Gently pulling him up to his feet, she whispered, "Make love to me? Make love to me like the last four and a half years didn't happen. Let's pretend, okay? Just for tonight. Please?"
He stared at her for a few seconds, so many emotions warring on his face. Regret, pain, despair, hope. She saw the exact moment he decided to push them all away, to ignore them for one night, and surged up to kiss her. Sweeping her into his arms, he carried Elena over to the bed, carefully laying her down.
He tore the ruined dress the rest of the way off and climbed on top of her, fusing their mouths together again. Her body under his fingers, so alive, so… solid… Damon couldn't think; didn't want to. With a carnal groan, he shut down his thoughts and allowed himself to just feel.
A/N: What you expected? No? Buckle in. It'll be a long journey. If you've been to my twitter account, you'll know why...
